Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Second Fiddle

Magic Touch

by Crucio_Crusade 3 reviews

Harry Potter is aware of the wizarding world. The only problem is he grew up apart from it. When he explored the magical world, he found danger, wonder, and friendship.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: R - Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama - Characters: Harry, Hermione, Neville, Voldemort - Warnings: [!] [?] [V] - Published: 2006-08-07 - Updated: 2006-08-08 - 3729 words

Disclaimer: This fan fiction was based on the Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership on any character created by J.K. Rowling, and no money is collected from this story. This is one way I show appreciation to J.K. Rowling's works. Other names or places on this story are fictional. Any similarity to actual name is purely coincidental.

Chapter 2: Magic Touch

Max and Harry pitched camp at a small clearing. They were in some woods up in Scotland. Max heard from a friend that this place was a little weird in terms of fauna. To be honest, he thought his friend was weird. But, the tale piqued his curiosity.

"Why are we digging a grave again?" Harry asked, wiping the sweat from his brows and forehead with his left forearm.

Max straightened up and flexed his tired shoulder blades. He took a couple of deep breaths and patiently replied, "We are not digging a grave. You can call it a foxhole. We are going to stay here a day or two to wash away the smell of civilization."

"You mean we have to get dirty and smelly?" Harry asked naively, smiling at the thought of his Aunt Petunia's horrified face

"Basically yes," Max answered simply, wondering at his peculiar smile.

"Cool." Harry studied the holes they were digging. "Why don't we just position ourselves downwind from the animal?"

"That is correct," Max said, surprised at his insight. "But, wind direction could suddenly change on you. And, wild animals are wary creatures. They run at the first sign or smell of danger."

Harry nodded accepting the wisdom of his adopted uncle. "Well, if we keep sweating the way we do, we may not have a use for this foxhole. You more than me of course," he said with a mischievous smile. Harry ended up with a shovelful of dirt on his face for his cheek. And a dirt fight started.

They spent the next few days hiking and studying the flora. Harry grew attached to his hunting knife since it proved very useful. Like Max, he made sure it was always hanging on his right hip. Although they hadn't seen any animal bigger than a fox, he was hopeful.

They were resting under a big conifer when Harry spotted a grey rabbit five meters away. He tapped Max arm and pointed at the rabbit. Max smiled at him and nodded at the creature's direction.

"Remember Harry, always keep me in sight. If you couldn't see me anymore, you might easily lose your way. I don't want you to get lost, at least not until I teach you how to find your way back." Max clearly reminded him.

"Always keep you in sight, check," Harry said seriously. He carefully walked around the rabbit keeping in mind all the lessons Max taught him on how to stalk an animal. He was so concentrated on his objective, he didn't notice the sloping lay of the land. He was crawling silently now when he heard a rustle from a clump of bushes on his right, two meters away. He paused and surveyed the source of the disturbance. What Harry saw was a pair of grey eyes staring back at him, and then, it attacked.

"Ahhhhhhh!" The scream reverberated through the woods. Max immediately lost the sophoric feeling induced by the peaceful surrounding. He jumped to his feet, alarmed. He ran to the direction Harry took.

"Harry! Harry! Where are you? Harry!" he shouted his heart filling with fear and dread. He ran as fast as the terrain allowed him. He ignored the cuts from low hanging branches. His only thought was to find Harry, fast.

"Uncle Max! Uncle Max! Help me! Uncle Max!" He heard the terrified voice of Harry to his left. His heart almost stopped at the scene which greeted him.

A grey-white wolf had Harry pinned down. It was the biggest wolf he had ever seen. It stood roughly ninety one centimeters from its front paw to shoulder. The wolf was literally trying to bite Harry's head off. Harry kept it at bay by firmly holding onto a thick branch stuck to its mouth.

Max immediately charged the animal shouting and screaming. From the way Harry was bleeding, Max thought he might be getting dizzy and weakening. There was no time to lose. He took a flying dive at the wolf and pulled it away from Harry. They tumbled a couple of times before Max scrambled away from the angry and obviously hungry animal. He pulled out Blanco and positioned himself between Harry and the wolf. He prepared for an attack.

The wolf growled at Max baring its sharp teeth. Its ears lay flat against its head. Its head and shoulders crouched low as if poised for an attack. Its beady eyes were always on him. Max had an awful feeling it was sizing him up. For a moment, Max thought it was going to attack. But, the moment passed and with a last growl, the wolf slowly turned away. Max heaved a sigh of relief, and then remembered Harry.

"Harry? Harry, where are you?" Max yelled fearfully. He frantically surveyed the bushes, and trees around him.

Harry cautiously poked his head out behind a tree. "I'm here!" he yelled back.

Max saw his face, front shirt, and right hand were all smeared with blood. He went to him and hugged him, relieved. He, then, carefully inspected him while tremulously asking, "Where does it hurt, Harry? Did it bite you? I'm sorry Harry. I shouldn't have let you out of my sight. You could have been killed."

"Uncle Max! Uncle Max! I'm fine. The wolf didn't get a chance to bite me. This isn't my blood, at least, not all of it. I only have cuts from the twigs and the wolf's nails when it tried to pin me down." Harry spread his arms and showed his ripped sleeves and shirts.

"Thank you, Lord," Max muttered gratefully. "Whose blood is it then?"

"The wolf," Harry answered with a shudder. He couldn't believe he wasn't eaten. He could still smell the wolf's awful breath when it came close to biting his face. "I managed to stab it a few times behind its ear. Oh no, the knife...!" Harry would have searched for the knife but Max held him fast. "I lost the knife," he said sadly.

"Harry, it's okay. Better lose the knife than your life," Max said firmly. He was glad that Harry didn't seem to be suffering from any emotional trauma if he was more worried about the knife.

"But, it was your gift," he said earnestly, worry etched on his face.

Max just shook his head and gently said, "Forget the knife, Harry. I'll get you another one. For now, let's go back to our campsite and get those wounds cleaned up. They looked deep for a scratch. I don't want them to get infected."

It took Max and Harry two weeks to track the fatally wounded wolf. In all that time, only Harry saw an odd collection of animals. Fortunately, they were not as dangerous as the wolf. Max either missed them or only saw them at the corner of his eyes. They managed to corner the wolf in an enclosed ravine. It was too weak from blood loss to climb the steep slope. It was now lying on its stomach, breathing heavily and warily watching them. It would angrily growl at them whenever they tried to move closer. Its once shiny hair was now dull and coated with dry blood and dirt.

"Do we have to kill it? Can't we just take it to a veterinarian?" asked Harry, pity evident in his voice. He couldn't help feeling guilty for this poor creature even though it tried to eat him. It was just hunting for food.

"It's too late, now," Max answered. "It already lost a lot of blood. It won't be long now before it dies."

"Well, couldn't we just leave it to die peacefully," Harry said hopefully.

"Harry, I already explained this to you. A wounded animal is dangerous. It is also cruel to let an animal suffer even though it is dying. Better to give it a quick death than prolong its agony." Max moved a little closer and carefully aimed his crossbow on the wolf's heart.

Harry, who was standing a couple of meters behind Max, watched miserably. He looked at the once magnificent creature and felt the familiar twinge of guilt. "Uncle Max, wait!"

"What is it, Harry?" asked Max without looking at him.

"Let me do it. It's... it's my fault it is dying. I should be the one to do it," Harry said tremulously.

Max cautiously backed away from the dying wolf. But before he handed the crossbow, he gave Harry a searching look. "Are you sure Harry?"

Harry met Max eyes and bravely tried to smile. "Yes, I'm sure." Max quickly showed him how to use the crossbow and where to aim it. Harry nodded his understanding. He took the proffered crossbow and hesitantly walked closer to the wolf. He unsteadily took aim at the wolf's heart and slowly tried to squeeze the trigger. But in the end, he couldn't do it. He lowered the crossbow and slowly approached the dying wolf. He went down on his knees and looked it straight in the eye.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Max whispered loud enough to be heard. He was about to go and pull Harry away, but hesitated. He wasn't sure how the wolf would react if he made a sudden move.

"I know you couldn't understand me. But, I just want to say I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to kill you. I just want you to get away from me. I know it's too late now, but if there's anything I could do to keep you alive, I would gladly do it. I would even gladly share my life if it would keep you alive." Harry hesitantly laid his hands on the blood matted fur of the wolf.

The wolf twitched a little when it was touched. It moved its head and looked at Harry. It gave a soft whine and lowered its head before slowly closing its eyes. A soft glow surrounded the wolf and flowed through Harry's hands making him glow also.

Harry didn't move. A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped him and made his skin tingled. He didn't understand what was happening, but he felt he was forgiven. He also felt something entered his body but the feeling disappeared as soon as the glow stopped. He woke up as if from a trance and realized the wolf was dead.

"Harry?" A hand touched him on the shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Harry slowly stood up, wondering if Max saw the glow. "Yes, I'm fine." He looked up at Max and tearfully smiled. "It wasn't angry at me before it died."

Max looked confused. "That's good then. Come on. Let's give it a proper burial before we leave." Max and Harry buried the wolf and marked the grave with a big stone. The name Caesar was engraved on the stone.

"Uncle Max, did you see anything odd before the wolf died?" Harry asked anxiously. His eyes were on the stone before looking up to meet Max's curious gaze.

"No. I can't say that I have. Why do you ask?" Max looked at him quizzically.

Harry just shrugged his shoulders. "Just curious," he replied sadly.

Over the years, Max taught him many things. He applied his hunting skills in his favorite game of paintball. Harry didn't have the heart to shoot animals for practice. But he got a kick out of shooting opposing paintball teams. He had no idea how his senses had improved, but he used them to his great advantage. His poor eyesight had cleared dramatically which helped him accurately shoot targets, even at a great distance.

Max had also encouraged Harry to join his school's football team. At first, Harry didn't enjoy the game because he didn't have the strength or built for it. But, he stayed on the team to please Max even as a bench warmer. Since the encounter with the wolf, Harry found strength and stamina he never knew he had. He could outrun and out grapple anyone on the team. His marked improvement helped his school team to win the football championship three years in a row.

He learned how to fight with his bare hands and use the knife and bolos with great skill. He learned how to ride a horse and bet on a good one too. Max showed him how to survive in different environment, to live off the land. Max even hired a dance teacher to show Harry how to dance which he miserably endured with as much dignity as he could muster.

Harry also found out that if he studied hard and get high marks, they would go travel. He traveled to places he saw only in pictures. He climbed Mt. Everest, dived in the Great Barrier Reef, and explored the tombs of the pharaohs. He was so happy and content that his life with the Dursley was nothing more than a bad memory.

A fifteen year old Harry was up in the attic doing late spring clean up. He stood one hundred eighty centimeters and built like an athlete that he was. Most girls found his emerald eyes captivating. He'd been working since breakfast and he was now covered in sweat, dust, and cobwebs. He was trying to push a cabinet in another location but it was too heavy, so he decided to empty it first. Inside, he found old pictures, memorabilia, dresses, baby clothes and toys. He saw a shoe box with a string tied around it. He pulled the string off and found more pictures inside, wedding rings, and a wand. He picked up one picture and it showed Max with a blond woman and a small five year old girl. He wondered why Max never mentioned this woman or girl to him. He also picked up the wand and went downstairs to ask Max.

Harry found him in the garage fixing the kitchen chair. "Uncle Max, I found this picture in the attic," he said handing the picture to his guardian. "Who are they?"

Max glanced at the picture and sighed. "Let's go take a break," he said. They went to the kitchen without speaking. Harry went to the stove and reheated a pot of tea. Max was looking intently at the picture and lovingly caressing the face of the woman.

"I never told you Harry but I was married once. This is the picture of my wife, Rosemarie and my daughter, Mary Rose," He said softly after a while. "They were murdered when I was out of the country on a secret military mission. Their bodies rest in the local cemetery."

"I'm so sorry Uncle Max. I shouldn't have asked," he apologized regretfully, looking really sorry.

"No need to be sorry Harry. It happened twenty years ago, long before you were born," Max said with a sad smile. "It's just that I could have saved them if I was here instead of protecting bloody merry old England!" he bitterly said in a loud voice.

Harry didn't know what to say instead he asked, "Did the police catch the murderer?"

Max just shook his head sadly, and then he noticed the wand in Harry's hand. "Do you know what that piece of stick is called Harry?"

Harry looked down at his hand and said, "It's a wand. My cousin Dudley has one." The name of his cousin brought back bad memories. On Dudley's first summer out of Hogwarts, he would wave his wand, threatening Harry with a curse. It was a summer of hell as he called it. That was until he found out Dudley couldn't do magic outside of school.

The teapot's lid started to rattle. Max pocketed the picture as he walked over to the stove, turned it off and poured Harry and himself a cup. "That wand belonged to Rosemarie's mother. My wife and child's murderers used those things to kill them. They were called Death Eaters. I wanted to hunt them myself. But without magic, the aurors said I wouldn't even see them."

"What's a Death Eater? What's an auror?" Harry asked with a blank expression. "And why would they kill your family?"

"Death Eaters are like racist terrorists and aurors are like constables," Max explained simply. "They killed my wife and daughter because Rosemarie was a squib. They're heartless. They will definitely torture a fly if it lands on their grubby food."

"I'm a squib. At least, that's what my Aunt Petunia called me when I asked about Dudley's Hogwarts letter," Harry revealed sadly. "Do you think they will come for me?"

"Don't worry Harry. If they do come here, we'll be the ones who will do the killing," Max grin evilly. "You're almost as good as I am anyway."

"Hey! I beat you yesterday in a fair fight," Harry protested loudly.

"Only because I let you, laddie..." Max laughed heartily. The veil of sadness lifted from his eyes. "Why don't you go take a shower while I fixed us some lunch," Max suggested trying to cover his nose as he stood up.

"Hey! I don't smell that bad," Harry protested again while sniffing his armpits.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Harry stared at the wand lying on his bed. It was beautiful even if it was a little old and worn. It had minute dents and the dark mahogany color had lost its luster. It was about thirty centimeters in length. Harry picked it up and tried to remember what Dudley said when he was showing off to his parents. He was trying to levitate a spoon but burned it up instead. Then the owl came from the Ministry and Dudley spent the summer sulking.

"What was it?" Harry murmured to himself. "Wings Live... no... Wingdum Levosa... no... Wingardenia Levisoa... no." Harry agitatedly paced his room. The words were on the tip of his tongue. He just couldn't remember them. Finally, he gave up and went downstairs.

He sat dejectedly on the chair and put the wand on the table, staring hard at it. "You're going to set it on fire by the way you look at it," Max said jokingly. "What's wrong?" he asked with concern.

"I was trying to remember the spell my cousin said to levitate an object," Harry replied morosely while putting food on his plate.

"You mean Wingardium/ Leviosa/?" Max asked him, reaching for the bread.

"That's it!" Harry yelled excitedly. "How did you know?"

"My wife had been saying that spell almost every day of the week. Nothing happened though," Max replied good-naturedly, fondly remembering his wife's antics.

"Do you think nothing will happen with me too?" Harry asked anxiously. He was having second thought that this might not be a good idea.

Max shrugged his shoulder as he continued eating. "You know my favorite saying ...'It is better to try and fail than fail to try'."

Harry slowly reached for the wand and picked it up. He glared hard at a glass of water as if just by willing it to float, it would happen. And then, while pointing at the glass of water, he firmly said, "Wingardium/ Leviosa./" He felt a tingling sensation in his hand as if something was rushing to it.

The glass of water stayed still for a heartbeat, and then it started to tremble. It continued to tremble until it went up for about five centimeters, dropped, and then toppled over its side, dumping its content on the table and on the floor.

Max's fork fell cluttering on his plate. He had an expression of surprise and disbelief as he continued to stare at the glass. His jaw hanged open. He rapidly blinked his eye to make sure he didn't imagine it.

"Harry you did it! You're not a squib! You're magic!" Max cried excitedly. He leapt to his feet, walked around the table, and gave Harry a fierce hug.

Harry, even though feeling a bit tired, just smiled contentedly. He was, after all, special like Dudley.

They were having a quiet time that night in front of the fireplace, the fire their only light. Harry, a pensive look on his face, sat on a rocking chair slowly swaying to the very soft music of Mozart. Max sat contentedly on his favorite leather armchair smoking his pipe.

"You know Harry," Max started conversationally. "When you reach the age of sixty two, you take as much pleasure as you can get on every little thing. Your friends dropped by earlier. Why didn't you join them and chase some young lasses?" Max inquired as he tapped his pipe on a nearby ceramic bowl, and then relit the fresh tobacco he put in.

Harry sighed in annoyance, stood up, and rested his left hand in the fireplace mantle. "I'm worried Uncle Max. What if I'm not magic enough to be called a wizard?" he asked softly. The light of the fire cast shadow on his troubled face.

Max also stood up and joined Harry near the fireplace. He put both his hands on Harry's shoulder and urged him to look at him. "Isn't that enough Harry? You have it. Every squib would give their eye teeth to have what you have. In fact, most problems in this world would be solved if people were satisfied with what they have."

Harry bowed his head in shame. Max always told him to work with what he had. The trainings and lessons were geared towards developing his innate abilities and skills.

"Besides, it's not how much magic you have, it's how you use it that's important." Max light heartedly reminded him. "Go get an early night sleep Harry. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

Harry nodded and left. Max looked at him with pride as he climbed up the stairs. Harry had grown up to be a fine young man. He was industrious, strong, polite, and had a great sense of humor. He walked tall and straight with grace and confidence. "Yes, a fine young man indeed," Max murmured.
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